


meeting up in the middle

by Marvelgeek42



Series: O ye, of little faith [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Theodore Nott, Demon Blaise Zabini, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Original Character(s), Slow To Update, female Antichrist, kid Antichrist, not all horsemen are men, or supernatural, the Sin Tournament, trying hard not to be good omens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelgeek42/pseuds/Marvelgeek42
Summary: Theodoriel is an angel.Basile is a demon.Neither of them are particularly good at their job.





	1. meeting up in the middle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_crownless_queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_crownless_queen/gifts).



> The working title of this was: i swear, this is not good omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was in Astana somewhere in Kazakhstan, sometime in the winter of 1991.
> 
> Theodoriel was there to perform a few miracles; Basile was trying to hide from his superiors.
> 
> As for how they actually met?
> 
> Funny story that.

The centuries upon centuries Theodoriel had spent on Earth as the only angel permanently stationed there had changed him considerably, there was no denying that.

He had not Fallen—not technically—but in the end it did not really make a difference. He was down here, all alone, without any of his brothers and sisters to support him.

If anything it made it worse, because at least those who had Fallen had either the support of others or did not remember what they were missing.

Theodoriel, however, did not have that. He had absolutely nothing.

And sometimes—in his darkest hours when he was close to loosing Faith—he wondered if the ethereal plan was really worth this.

* * *

Once again, Basile wished that he had made different choices. Out of all the ways his life could have gone, he had to chose the possibly worst one.

Being a demon was terrible. Not by Hell's definition, of course, because in Hell terrible meant good and good meant terrible.

Not, that his human life had been that good...bad...whatever in the first place.

Sure, the pyramids _looked_ cool, but building it had been a real pain. Half of his family had died over the time. A few wrong choices later and here he was.

And sometimes—in his lightest moments when he was close to remembering—he wondered if there was a way to end this, forever.

* * *

Theodoriel had not gotten new orders from Above in literal ages. The last time had been when his half-human brother had walked on the planet, so he was a bit worried.

Quite frankly, at this point he wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of the ethereal plane ever again.

He had learned so much from human race and his family had abandoned him for a single mistake. In his eyes, he had not even done the wrong thing.

Theodoriel had simply ensured that Abel's spirit would be visible to his parents for a final goodbye.

They had pushed him away, simply because he had acted on his own accord, not on their Parents' order.

He still fulfilled them, but his metaphorical heart—because he did not have one, only his vessel—wasn't in it.

* * *

Basile had always hated it when he was caught by a Hunter. Thankfully most of them had no idea how to handle demons, never mind killing them.

He might not be a good...terrible...screw it. He might not do his job the way his superiors hoped he would, but that didn't mean he was suicidal for Sat- Go- someone's sake!

Basile just wanted to be left alone, but apparently, that was too much to ask for.

He sighed and entered his original Pierce Silver Arrow **[1]**.

Being a demon had to have some benefits, after all. He yet to regret buying it; it was simply so much more stylish than simply arriving in a pillar of smoke.

* * *

Over the years, Theodoriel had developed a slight reluctance to use his wings.

Humans didn't like it when things were different—even if they were infinitely better than his ethereal 'family'. The former were fine with change under certain circumstances and even then a lot would always stay the same, no matter what was said at that time.

Another point was, that there was always something to see and if he were to use his wings, he would be quite a bit too fast to actually appreciate any of the hard work his Parent and/or the humans had put into it.

And that was really not nice at all. He might be a bad angel, but that didn't mean he had to be—dare he say it— _rude_.

Theodoriel shuddered at the mere thought.

* * *

Basile had never liked his superiors. And, quite honestly why the hell should he?

Not counting the fact they were _literal demons_ , they always stuck to traditions, even when there were so many new ideas. The demons of Hell did not understand the human world and had not since they had left the middle ages.

It was frustrating and there were so many better ways to spend his time, like binge watching _Doctor Who_ or something.

Humans had invented so many things over the past centuries and Down Below did not acknowledge a single one of them.  
You'd think they would at least look at things like the nuclear bomb and all the other things humans used to hurt each other, but no, that was apparently beneath their notice.

They were fools.

* * *

It was a chance meeting, but it happened nevertheless.

Theodoriel and Basile met.

It was in Astana somewhere in Kazakhstan, sometime in the winter of 1991.

Theodoriel was there to perform a few miracles; Basile was trying to hide from his superiors.

As for how they actually met?

Funny story that.

You see, Theodoriel had somehow remained completely oblivious of the fact the he was walking right next to a demon, until Basile rapidly paled.

_Please, angel, do not smite me. I am not doing any nefarious work...at least not currently._

It was safe to say that this got the angel's attention. It was not everyday that you heard a voice in your head after all.

Well not once you had distanced yourself from Above's communication network, at the very least.

* * *

When asked how they had gotten into a conversation, both would give conflicting answers that changed every time, but what could you expect?

They were the rejects from Above and Down Below, so it was reasonable that one was too good and one too bad of a liar.

Despite their conflicting natures, Theodoriel and Basile actually got along fairly well.

Both of them were equally shocked about that, that much was fairly obvious, but it was the undeniable truth.

They were an odd mixture; it worked nevertheless.

Neither of them would admit to the idea, but they stuck together from that point onwards.

They could rise and shine in their own way.

* * *

"Do you ever think about The End?" Theodoriel questioned on the evening of the eleventh September, 2001. They were in Namibia at the time, but on that day, it really did not matter where on the planet you were.

The horror was not contained by such laughable concepts as borders. It was just as omnipresent as They—Theodoriel's Parent, in case there was any confusion—were.

"Frequently," Basile admitted, his eyes not moving from the screen—that was unsurprisingly still replaying what happened in New York City earlier that day—for a second. "I suppose we will be around for that, no matter if it's caused by your side, mine, or the humans."

"That is exactly what scares me," the angel admitted.

"Me too."

* * *

"Now that the night has come, you can be yourself again," Basile greeted Theodoriel as he entered their shared apartment in Manhattan sometime in mid-2011.

"I know," Theo—for that was a tad more inconspicuous than his full name—responded as he took of his jacket and revealed his wings.

"I still don't get why you insist on working," Basile—or Blaise, as he was calling himself now—commented, watching the angel's movements carefully.

Theo crossed his arms. "It keeps us better hidden from any side—damned, human, or ethereal."

Blaise smirked and wiggled his brows suggestively. "You're hot when you get all defensive."

"Are you offering temptations of the flesh?" Theo questioned.

"Do you even need to ask at this point?" Blaise chuckled. "It isn't like this is the first time. Or fiftieth."

* * *

A couple of hours later, were lying next to each other, side by side.

"A gift from Them, indeed," Blaise muttered with a smile on his face.

"Oh, stop it, you little devil," Theo responded, his vessel's eyes shining with amusement.

A few seconds later, both of them broke out laughing.

"We are so immature," Theo declared once they had somewhat calmed down.

Blaise snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather we act our age?"

Theo shook his head.

"That's what I thought."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Basically it's a fancy car form 1933.


	2. casually saving the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With some luck, they—and the rest of the world—might even survive. It all depended on their parenting abilities.
> 
> Yes. Because _that_ inspired confidence like nothing else did!
> 
> Not.

Theodoriel and Basile—Theo and Blaise—had lived and also kind of worked together for two and a half decades when the first signs of The End had started to appear.

Neither of them could say that they liked this in any way, shape or form.

“But I like Earth,” Blaise whined once they had figured out what the baby he had been handed meant.

The baby was the catalyst that would bring The End, the Antichrist.

No time had passed between the time the demon had been handed the kid by his superiors and the time he told Theodoriel about it.

“Why is this even my task anyways? It’s not like my good...bad...argh, you know what I mean! It’s not like it stood out in particular. It never did and it certainly moved even further away from what they want,” he complained, violently throwing his hands in the air, as if the question was directed at Them.

And maybe it was, Theo supposed. It wasn’t like it made any more or less sense than asking the ceiling itself.

“Perhaps that is why,” he theorized—huh, _theo_ rized.

The demon frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe they want to test your loyalty,” the angel replied, making more than one weird movement with his hands. He also stretched that sentence unnecessarily long for some reason.

“Well, if that’s the case, then they made the worst-best choice they could have,” Blaise smiled. The grin on his face suggested that he had a plan. “Say, how do you feel about adopting?”

Theo wasn’t dumb. He caught onto the plan. “Can’t say I mind it, really. I welcome the challenge.”

“Then it’s decided.”

* * *

Neither of them wasted any time.

Theo quit his job, the lease of the apartment and erased any trace that they had ever been there while Blaise packed.

All of that only lasted a couple of seconds, of course, being an ethereal or a damned Being did have some benefits.

Once that was done, Blaise threw an illusion of a dart on a holographic image of a World Map that his partner had conjured.

This was the way they always picked their next destination.

Last time it had been Rotterdam in the Netherlands and now they would move on to Dharka in Bangladesh.

If nothing else, then this would most certainly be a very interesting experience for all the of them.

With some luck, they—and the rest of the world—might even survive. It all depended on their parenting abilities.

Yes. Because _that_ inspired confidence like nothing else did!

Not.

* * *

“What are we calling him, anyway?” Basile questioned as they were putting in their new furniture—that is their old furniture with a glamour charm that would only affect humans. It would cause them to see whatever they expected of someone living here, in the slums.

They might be doing that, but that didn’t mean that they had to do it without style.

Blaise had even shrunk his Pierce Silver Arrow so that it fit on his keychain.

He would not leave it alone for anything...that anyone had offered him so far. Best to keep his options open.

“What do you mean?” the angel questioned as he absently switched the colour of their walls for the seventy fifth time.

“The child needs a name,” the demon pointed out. “We can’t just keep calling him Antichrist!”

Theodoriel paused. The walls were a light purple. “Do we even know it’s a him? Just because everyone assumes the kid to be a he does not mean that this is the case.”

“My point exactly!” Basile exclaimed.

* * *

It turned out that the kid was not a he but a she after all. They didn’t need to look, Theo simply ask her.

Because speaking all languages apparently included senseless babble of a newborn.

“How much of the things animals say are connected to either food or sex?” Basile questioned.

“Almost all of it,” Theo replied, groaning. “But let us get back to naming the girl. _Please_.”

Louise, Mary, Paula, Stefanie, Yuki, Akinyi, and many, many, _many_ more names were rejected one of them or the girl herself. They had long since reached the point to start grasping straws.

“Anughaṭaka?” Theo proposed eventually. “We could shorten it to Hata?”

Blaise nodded. “I’d be fine with that. Hell, I’d be fine with pretty much anything right now.”

Since the baby was fine with that, that was her name from that point onwards.

Hata Thrall, because they really could not come up with a better last name and didn’t particularly fancy trying.

* * *

Hata was a strange kid, but that was to be expected of her. She _was_ the Antichrist, after all.

Theo and Blaise were doing their very best to keep her from accidentally-on-purpose destroying the world.

Because that kid was powerful and if Hata were to dislike humans or Earth, she might destroy them during a temper tantrum.

Sort-of-openly working against both Above and Down Below had something adventurous about it and they both agreed that Hata was worth it.

That did, however did not mean that it was easy to raise her in any sense of the word.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

But it was oddly rewarding, too. And not just in the sense that they were prolonging Earth’s existence; this was something more personal.

* * *

They had to move before Hata turned one.

“It’s almost a shame,” Theodoriel commented absently as he looked out of their window one last time. “This city was starting to grow onto me.”

Basile raised a single eyebrow. “Even with all the sssuffering?” He hadn’t used the forked tongue in...such a long time that he could not remember when he did it last.

It fit perfectly, though.

Theo glared at him. “That’s why I said ‘almost’, you dork.”

Blaise chuckled loudly. “Uhh, getting really great with the insults here. By Hell’s definition.”

Hata clapped her tiny hands excitedly.

Theo threw their last remaining pillow in his direction. “Shut up. Or else….” He never finished that threat.

“I’m terrified,” Blaise deadpanned.

* * *

School was an interesting experience for Hata and consequently Basile and Theodoriel.

That, however, didn’t mean it wasn’t fun.

Hata displayed no destructive tendencies, especially not on the scale they feared, oh no.

She was a prankster at heart.

Whenever she played a prank—changing colours of things, putting spelling errors in her teacher’s works and such things—Blaise would simply shrug and say that it could have been way worse.

Theo couldn’t exactly fault him for that, given that they could be dealing with her murdering everyone around them.

They still continued moving every couple of months, but they had managed to stretch the time to ten months the last time.

* * *

“Hata brought home a letter,” Blaise informed Theo when he got home from his office work. They were in Australia and Hata was eight. “There’s a parent-teacher conference _and_ —as if that wasn’t enough—one or both of us is supposed to come into the school and introduce their jobs!”

Theo frowned. “I get why the parent-teacher conference—really, they should think of a better name. Not every kid is raised by their parents, after all—would be a problem, but what is the issue with job day? And where is Hata, anyway?”

“She’s with a friend. They want to have a sleepover or something. Didn’t really listen,” Blaise shrugged. “But let’s get back to the point, shall we?”

“Yes, please,” Theo requested. “Because I truly do not see the problem.”

Blaise put his head in his right hand. He was sitting at their kitchen table and his elbow was placed on it. “Because you’re an office worker that gets payed close to nothing, I don’t officially work and yet we’re living in a _mansion_ , maybe?”

The frown stayed on the angel’s face. “Don’t you lead, like, three computer firms and five successful websites that make millions?”

Blaise buried his face in his hands and sighed. “I said _officially_!”


	3. postponing The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel, a demon—who have been sexually involved for over three decades—and their adopted child, the Antichrist, walk into a bar.
> 
> This is not the start of a joke. There is no punchline.

“We can't have a crisis,” Theodoriel said, flipping through his calendar. “Not right now! My schedule is already full.”

“What?” Basile put a hand over his vessel's heart, feigning shock. “Above and Down Below didn't account for your book club meetings when they planned the Apocalypse? I'm shocked, really.”

Eight-year-old Hata laughed. “Good one, Papa!”

Hata had indeed called them Papa and Dad since the moment she could speak.

Theo was personally just glad that she didn't call either of them Father, but that title was reserved for her biological father, Samael. Also known as Beelzebub, Lucifer, Lord of Hell, Luci—provided you had a slight death wish or were called Gabriel—and, somehow, Oliver.

Nobody really knew how that had happened, but no one particularly fancied asking, either.

“Don't worry,” Basile said, “I have a plan.”

Hata turned to Theodoriel, “Daddy, may I teleport myself away? I don't think running's fast enough.”

“Ha ha.” The demon crossed his arms. “It's a great plan.”

“The last time you said that—with the guardian-teacher meeting six months ago, you remember?—you set the house on fire-”

“It's wasn't technically on fire!” Basile interrupted his partner.

“You're right, Papa,” Hata nodded seriously. “It wasn't on fire. It exploded.”

* * *

Meanwhile, unknown to anyone outside of their little group, the Seven Deadly Sins—not to be confused with the fictional series, anyone who does that is dooming themselves—were holding their contest.

This contest was held every fifty years between Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth and was used to determine who would be the main sin for the following five decades.

Envy had won the previous time and Lust the one before.

Pride couldn't let that happen again.

Ey needed to win this time. Anything else would hurt eir pride and Pride's pride was hurt by the mere suggestion that something like this might be possible.

And when Pride's pride was hurt, there was no real point in being Pride anymore, was there?

So, to gain eir pride back, Pride had to win the contest.

And ey would do that. For eir pride.

* * *

An angel, a demon—who have been sexually involved for over three decades—and their adopted child, the Antichrist, walk into a bar.

This is not the start of a joke. There is no punchline.

“Hey, no children in here!” the barman exclaimed, pointing to a sign by the entrance.

“Well, that is horribly rude,” Theodoriel observed as looked at the sign.

It read **No Dumbasses Allowed**.

Basile looked at Hata proudly, before he turned to the perplexed human. “Don't worry. Our Hata's a smart girl. But we're here for business.” He lowered his sunglasses slightly and gave the man his nicest smile. “So if we may speak with the manager of this...fine establishment.”

The bar was called **The Rotten**   **Corpse**  and looked like it.

They were lead to the back into the office of some man in his mid-fifties. He was smoking a cigar and colossally failing an attempt to look like Marlon Brando in the Godfather

“Listen here,” he said, slowly rising from his chair.

It might, possibly, have looked threatening to a human (child), but not for them.

“No, you listen. Remember me, _amigo_? I need a favour. You get your soul back in exchange. Do we have a deal?”

* * *

Pride was placed second, behind Greed.

Greed had really wanted the title again. Xey had been downright greedy.

As a celebration, xey gave someone the idea to raise the prices of water by the tenfold.

* * *

In other news, the closest thing Above and Down Below had to a headquarter on earth was bombed.

Separately, because they were not even on the same continent.

Humans suspected some terror group of the Middle East—because that had been the first impulse for over two decades now.

The damned and ethereal Beings knew better.

* * *

Basile shrugged as he entered his prized Pierce Silver Arrow. “Well, that didn't end the way I expected, but at least nobody important died.”

“Nobody important?” Theo questioned as he entered the second place at the front. “The _Pope_ died.”

“That's what I said, nobody important.”

Hata giggled in the backseat.

Theo shook his head. “I still don't understand how the barman was able to organise this.”

“Oh,” Blaise waved his hand dismissively. “He knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows that one guy that is smuggling bombs all over Europe.”

“But, how?”

Blaise held up his smartphone. “The Internet, of course. How else does anyone know anyone these days?”

“Good point,” Theo acknowledged.

“Can we go to the cinema?” Hata questioned.

Theo and Blaise looked at each other.

“Sure, why not,” Blaise decided after a few seconds. “That could be fun.”

* * *

Death, Pollution, War, and Famine were having a brunch in Tokyo when they all got a text message from St. Michael, the Archangel.

No one even knew when he had discovered the invention of the wheel, so it was quite stunning to see a text from him. It was completely in capslock and read.

IT IS TIME!

The four horsepeople looked among each other.

“Anyone else in favour of ignoring it?” Famine asked, moving her long, blonde hair behind her ear.

She received nods all around.

“That's good. Now, if you'll excuse me, a village in Somalia is waiting for my arrival.” She didn't bother to stand up, she simply disappeared.

War muttered something about the Middle East and left, shortly followed by Pollution who had just discovered that more oil had gotten into the ocean somewhere.

“Excuse me?” Death motioned to the waitress. “Could I get another milkshake please?”

That was the reason that ne had reapers. Ne could take a break whenever ne felt like it.

And ne did that quite often.

* * *

At the very same time, an apple fell from a tree.

This was important, because it wasn't just any tree.

It was the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden.

No angel noticed the apple, until it was stolen by a human soul that had left their personal heaven to satisfy their curiosity.

The human in question was none other than...

You know what? That would be telling.


End file.
